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I am a Scorpio. I enjoy long walks on the beach, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and men in hockey masks. In my spare time I work to foil the plans of my arch nemesis, utilize my eight finger discount, and lecture from my soapbox about social injustices. I do not tolerate fools or like people who make Walmart plural.
I judge people who are missing more teeth than they have, unless they are old. I would like to someday be the scary old woman in the neighborhood that all the children are afraid of, however I will be misunderstood and actually a sweet old lady turned bitter by the disappointments of this cruel, cruel life.
I will have made my vast wealth telling fortunes under the alias the Mad Madame Mim and selling t-shirts in tourist destinations that say “Life isn’t always flowers and sausages”.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Untitled Short

Lightning split the sky, providing an instant of light that allowed the minister to see through the wall of rain that separated him from the man in a trench coat across the street. The man appeared to be watching him even though the only light that could penetrate the swirling fog and relentless rain was that of the occasional flash from the heavens. But even those were getting even fewer and further between as the storm moved past. The minister stood in his house with the lights off trying to watch the man across the street. He didn't appear to have an umbrella yet stood, rigid on the other side of the street as the storm raged on in the distance.

The minister first saw this strange man in a trench coat when he arrived home from dinner. The storm was quickly moving in and the minister was worried he wouldn't make it inside before the rain started. The sky was rippled with ominous black clouds outlined in pink, the air sparked with electricity and the leg he broke as a child ached deep in the bone. The ministers rushed towards his door, clinging onto his big umbrella against the swift attempts by the wind to relieve him of its burden. The rain was starting to spit out of the sky as he fumbled with his keys outside of his old townhouse. He dropped the keys as the wind once again tried to rip the umbrella from his grasp. Bending over to pick them up he noticed someone walking on the other side of the street. The minister glanced over at the person giving a sheepish smile.

The man on the other side of the street didn't return his smile instead he stopped halfway between the two lamp post and directly across from the minister's door. The rain began coming down harder, the wind blowing it underneath the ministers umbrella. The minister pushed the door to his house open and rushed inside. Leaving the wet umbrella in the entrance way the minister shook the water from his closely cropped hair as he walked into the living room. Flipping on the light by habit as he walked to the window to look for the man. The rain was coming down so hard now, surely the man had moved on, he rationalized. The rain was thick as flour, he could see the street let alone across the street.

The minister assured himself the man had indeed moved on. He made himself a cup of tea and settled in to watch some television. Halfway through some innocuous sitcom the lights flickered, then second later shut off completely. "Great." he muttered to himself. The minister stood up, stretching his back. The storm raged outside the house. He looked out the window the rain poured, the wind bent the small tree outside nearly to the ground. The lightning flashed every few second like God was taking pictures. It was then the minister saw the man was still standing outside his house across the street. Had the minister not been sure it was impossible he would say the man had not even moved an inch. What was the man doing over there? Why was he watching his house?

The minister stood watching him as the man in the trench coat watched him. This man sent chills down the minister's spine. The hair on his arms and neck stood and fear knotted his stomach. Who was this man? What did he want? Lightning flashed again. The minister stumbled back a step. Was the man smiling? A scream lodged in the minister's throat. He stumbled towards the phone to call the police.

"Da... Da... Da" three notes rang out from his electric keyboard. This was impossible, the electricity is off, the minister internal voice screeched in his head. Instead of feeling his way to the phone the minister felt his way to the stairs running up them two at a time. Someone was in the house he knew it. The minister locked himself into his bedroom. He listened to the slow methodical steps climbing the stairs. How did the man get into the house?

"What do you want!" he scream, crumpling in the corner, covering his ears from a possible answer with his hands.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Sounded through the house like a sonic boom. The door shaking with the force of the knock causing the minister to cower even deeper.

"Stop!" his voice becoming higher with desperation.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The next morning the minister's housekeeper arrived bright and early. She loved when it rained and the smell of new life and growth hung in the air. She let herself in and made a large breakfast like the minister liked. The housekeeper looked at her watch, it wasn't like the minister to sleep this late. She walked up the old wooden stairs to his room and lightly knocks on the door. Receiving no reply she slowly opens the door. The light from the hallway cut through the darkness to find no minister and the room in perfect order. The housekeeper stifled the disappointment at his having left so early in the morning and went about her duties as normal.